


Unwelcome

by Artistic_Gamer



Series: Izuku haunts class 1-A [41]
Category: BnHA, Boku no Hero Academia, My Hero Academia, mha
Genre: Ghost!Midoriya, Midoriya haunts 1-A, Other, Toshinori has a much needed revelation, a new POV !!, nope - Freeform, ohohoho you all thought I forgot about Ibara huh, talks about setting into the dorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28272543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artistic_Gamer/pseuds/Artistic_Gamer
Summary: Ibara tries to keep her promise. Meanwhile, Sato ponders on dorm life.
Relationships: Ibara Shiozaki & Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku & Class 1-A, Midoriya Izuku & Sato
Series: Izuku haunts class 1-A [41]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553269
Comments: 83
Kudos: 615





	Unwelcome

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone, happy Thursday!! ٩( ᐛ )و I hope everyone has a merry Christmas (for those who will be celebrating with me!) and happy holidays!! I’ll see you all next year ;D

He understood. Toshinori had replayed the scene over and over in his head, picked it apart until it was stuck under his eyelids, and he finally realized what he had done wrong.

He had approached the situation as All Might, not as Toshinori. Approached the problem like it was easily solved and not the complicated mix that it actually was. He had tried to steam roll it.

It wasn’t hard for him to remember the moment when he’d figured it’d be okay, and Toshinori wanted to slap himself, wanted to make the same mistake - corner the boy and explain his intentions before they could be misconstrued. But they wouldn’t be, his intentions had been clear, precise and to the point and selfish. A clear conscience had been his goal, and it had been the wrong one. The blemish on his reputation was his own failing and had hurt an innocent life, had scarred a young boy. Wasn’t Midoriya’s pain supposed to be more important - mean so much more - than clearing that blemish?

It should not have taken so long to realize that. It should’ve been his first priority, but he had grown so used to winning he had forgotten how to lose. Midoriya was that reminder, was the catalyst to point back to his fragility, his human nature, and Toshinori accepted it.

He understood. He would teach as he was meant to, atone for what he’d done, and if he ever received a second chance he would learn from his mistakes.

If Midoriya wished it.

Ibara Shiozaki walked through the halls of U.A with her head held high, a backpack not normally used on her back. It was after school on the last day of the semester and Ibara had a goal.

It was now or never. She wouldn’t have another opportunity to assist class 1-A, help them be free of the evil soul that plagued their lives and stained their hearts, and she truly believed it was. Reiko had told class 1-B of her horror story. The black ink, the bright green eyes that looked too glassy to be natural, the heads that had turned impossibly to stare at her. Class 1-A was haunted, content with being so, and Ibara knew she had to help them somehow.

No one was occupying the classroom - maybe Aizawa and surely he’d understand her wish to aid. If not, then it would be an empty classroom except for the one she wished to banish, perfect conditions.

The door to 1-A was shut but didn’t seem locked, and hope blossomed in her chest as she clutched the strap of her backpack tighter, the salt and holy water weighing on her shoulders. She pushed it open, and after a careful scan of the classroom she spotted one face at the back, scarred in a familiar way. He looked surprised to see her, eyebrows furrowed and eyes wide.

_ You’re from 1-B, _ he said, hands frozen mid reach to put something away in his own backpack, leaning down in his seat.  _ What are you doing here…? _

Ibara perked up. He had been one of the few who hadn’t said a word to what she had proposed before, and although that wasn’t necessarily in her favor, it wasn’t against it either.

_ I’ve come to exorcise the demon, _ she said, keeping her voice down. Todoroki didn’t react right away and she took that as neutrality.  _ Class 1-A is cursed after all, cursed with a spirit. I wish to help you in getting rid of it. _ He was frozen so she moved, shrugging the straps off and placing the bag on the ground carefully to her right.  _ Would you like to help - _

_ Get out. _

Ibara stopped. A chill climbed down from her shoulder blades to her lower back, goosebumps breaking out across her skin. Todoroki’s voice was quiet but firm, eyes staring into her soul and showing no mercy.

_ Please, you have to see the hold it has on you, _ she begged, hoping to breach through the fog in his mind.  _ You are not thinking rationally! _

_ No, you’re not listening. _ He stood, towering over her.  _ We don’t need or want your help. Get out. Now. _

_ You have a demon in your classroom! _ she shouted, temporarily forgetting herself in her desperation.  _ This will not take long! _

Ibara blinked. Where Todoroki’s face once was only held dripping void, white eyes boring into her soul and threatening to swallow her up. A smile stretched across the expanse of darkness, dripping and unstable and so very angry.

_ I҉ ́ş̛͟a̢̡̡̛̕i̸̧̛d̷̵͜͠ ̸̕͡g̡͘e͏̀t̵͢͞ ̸̡͢o̵͢ù̴͞t. _

Todoroki’s voice sounded layered, doubled over with another that didn’t belong to him. Younger, softer.

Her stomach turned to ice as her heart lurched, the cold making her shiver pathetically as she leaned down to snatch her backpack up again. Ibara didn’t bother looking back, fleeing the room without a second thought. She took the hallway at a run and didn’t stop.

If he was that far gone, they couldn’t be helped. Not anymore. Not by her.

Shouto was fuming, silently gritting his teeth against a wave of fury that made him want to set fire to all the desks and throw his backpack out the window. The small, rational part of him was only thankful she hadn’t caught Bakugo or Shinsou - those two would have spared her no kindness.

Izuku had been muttering until Ibara showed up, and the silence of the room right then echoed in his bones. He grabbed the EMF to talk, but the Ipad lit up and before he knew it his phone was chirping.

‘I scared her. I’m sorry.’

Todoroki inhaled, exhaled. So that was why she had looked so horrified - Izuku must’ve done something similar to how he scared Endeavor.

‘It’s okay, she deserved it’

After a couple moments of silence, Shouto wondered if that had been the wrong thing to say. He went to backpedal a bit, but Izuku beat him to it, the three dots appearing and disappearing until Izuku sent his message.

‘Shou, am I a curse?’

His heart burned, blood boiling at the girl who walked in with the confidence like she knew everything, could decide the fate of a loved one, alive or dead. 

_ You’re a blessing, _ he said aloud, tone a challenge to the empty room - to the world, to Ibara - to prove him wrong. 

The classroom was still. Izuku didn’t argue with him, but Shouto got the feeling he didn’t agree.

The dorms as a whole - in Sato’s humble opinion - were both a blessing and a curse.

The idea of shoving roughly twenty students into one building - and just assuming everything would be fine - was idiotic at best. Bakugo in particular was a human tornado on the best of days, and Sato frequently walked into rooms to find scorch marks on the walls and furniture. His shouting could be heard from two floors above and below him, and Sato had many internal debates about knocking him out just to shut him up - he always decided against it but it was a near thing.

On the other hand, Bakugo was the only one he could trust to be alone in the kitchen, so it balanced itself out, aided with the realization that not only did Bakugo not burn things but he could actually cook. Most things in the dorms ended up like that, pros and cons that became neutral when put together. There were only a couple exceptions. Kaminari always blew the lights once a week like clockwork. Uraraka floated in her sleep, and he or Tsuyu had to be woken in the dead of night to pull her back to ground level. Ashido’s acid corroded the counter three times before she became extra cautious, and although the counter was spared after that, her acid was in flecks everywhere and touching it sucked ass.

There were good things too. Yaomomo earned her title as not only the class president, but the class mom. She was always around, always ready to lend a helping hand, and although Sato wouldn’t dare trust her with a pot and a stove, she was his go-to when it came to homework troubles. Iida as well, if he was desperate enough to crack out the EMF and risk distraction. Tsuyu’s presence alone brought a still calm whenever she was around, and she was a blessing in disguise when his anxiety couldn’t be sated through stress baking. Ojiro was a great mentor for hand to hand combat. When Sato had the free time it wasn’t uncommon to see the two sparring in the dorms’ living room.

Izuku, too. Mainly his company. In the classroom, Sato usually kept his mouth shut. He didn’t have a lot to add, leaving the snarky remarks and joking around to the more extroverted students and being more than happy to do so. Even when he did speak and participate, Izuku was usually with Bakugo or Todoroki, Shinsou on occasion. In the dorms however, Izuku seemed to be making it a point to spread his attention around more. Sato caught Tokoyami seemingly talking to himself on more than one occasion, saw Koda signing to a quietly humming EMF, noticed Yaomomo texting with sparkling eyes and a kind, fond smile. Even Aizawa popped in more just to check on him, sitting in the common room to sign with the little ghost. It was a great opportunity to corner the teacher to ask him questions he couldn’t normally.

Mostly, Sato spent his time in the kitchen, and that was where Izuku always caught him. The kid brought a chill and goosebumps with him, as usual, but Sato couldn’t remember the last time he’d been afraid of them. Sometimes Izuku would have a phone on him or his IPad, messaging Sato and waiting patiently for a response whenever Sato’s hands were free. He was a curious thing for sure, asking what he was making, what he was doing, why he was mixing, why the sugar was brown. Sato did his best to answer.

When it wasn’t endless questions, it was endless chatter, device or not. Sometimes Izuku would arrive and blow up his phone with text after text after text, like a little mouth motor. Sometimes he would arrive and just mutter nonsense, and Sato would nod along as he worked, not questioning it. Maybe it was a coping mechanism? Aizawa had mentioned those yesterday during detention, pointed out some of Izuku’s habits that finally made sense - his tapping, his humming, his adverse to silence - and maybe it was one of them. Sato didn’t want to discourage it. If Izuku was in a particularly active mood, Sato would ask him to help with adding ingredients, and even though it usually resulted in some kind of mess he was happy to make Izuku giggle.

Sato would finish a dessert and receive pats to his bicep or face, regardless of how it turned out. It would get a laugh out of him no matter what mood he’d started with.

Caring for the kid wasn’t what he’d signed up for joining the hero course, but he certainly didn’t mind.

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY PRE NEW YEARS 🎉🎉🎉🎉


End file.
